


Hung With The Red Strings of Fate

by TogglemyLlama



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Heartbreak, M/M, Mystery, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Will and Hannibal died at the end of season 3, canon type violence, lots of references to the show, m/m - Freeform, murder description, season 1-3, will add more tags as the fic continue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TogglemyLlama/pseuds/TogglemyLlama
Summary: Chiyoh’s sudden boisterous laugh interrupting them, making them both look up towards the dining room at the end of the hall. He could also hear a deep breathy laugh of an unknown man.“Who else is hear?” Nigel asks, looking back to Kikyo.She looked at him for a moment almost as if she was hesitant to tell him. Her brown eyes starting at his auburn eyes as if she was searching for something in them. He guess she found what she was looking for because before she turned her back on him and shuffled back into the kitchen she said to him in a clear voice.“A Nakama”A reincarnation AU where Nigel is leaking, Hannibal is plotting, Daniel is welding a knife and Will is pining.





	Hung With The Red Strings of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is my very first fic/ the first piece of writing that I'm sharing ever, so please be kind. Also I'm not used to the formatting yet so forgive me.

A light mist of snow was starting to cover the ground. The air was crisp as Nigel breathed in the late winter breeze. He reached in front to zip up the remainder of his clear plastic suit. All he had in his hand was a key to the back door and a very sharp knife. He let himself in silently twisting the key in the lock, gently closing the door behind him.

The smell of the doctor office immediately filling his nose. The office was quiet, all the staff was long gone at this hour, everyone but one. He could hear the light buzzing noises of a machine at work. Nigel walked down the long hallway peeking through the glass windows in the doors until he discovered the room where the sound was coming from. He sees a man’s feet peeking out of a large white machine. He lies there unmoving in a pale blue paper gown, his clothes are throne lazily on a small metal table beside him. Nigel has a strong sudden urge to enter the room. Just for a few moments he swears he smells the ocean, seeping from the gap between the door and the floor. The scent is so strong he can almost feel the sting of the ocean water filling his nose. The urge to open the door is almost unbearable but he relents and continues to move swiftly but silently down the hallway, finally reaching the door that reads “Dr. Sudcliff”.

"Hello?" Nigel ask as he enters the room.

Dr. Sudcliff is sitting in his office chair dead, the right side of his face filleted open from mouth to ear. The doctor's face oozes blood as a man continuous does quick work of the left half with a sharp hooked blade. The man suddenly looks up from his work at Nigel's intrusion.

 

"We're the same you and I" the man says as he wipes the knife clean on his shirt.

 

The man is dressed casually in tan slacks and a white button down but he's drenched from head to toe. His wet brown hair curls up framing his face but instead of features all Nigel can see is one big blur. His face wiped away as if a painter purposely smudged it with his thumb.

 

"Who..." Nigel begins but trails off as the man holds up a finger shushing him. The faceless man silently moves towards him knife in hand. His shoes making a loud squishing sound from being soaked down to his socks. He comes to stand directly in front of Nigel, their faces just inches apart.

He slowly takes Nigel's hand and slowly exchange one knife for the other. The faceless man now has Nigel's long thin knife and Nigel now has his. The knife is small but sturdy and sharp, the blade elegantly curves inward almost like a crescent moon. He brings the knife to his mouth feeling the steel blade with the sensitive skin of his lips reveling in the sensation of the cool metal.

With a smile Nigel plunges the knife deep within the stomach of the faceless man. Wrenching the knife violently to the side spilling the contents of the man's insides. To Nigel surprise there was no blood just gushing water that poured out of the man like a broken levy. The salty water starts to rapidly fill the room, crashing into him like strong waves. The water surged down his throat, filling his lungs, choking him.

***

Nigel startles awake struggling to breathe normally, strands of hair sticking up in all directions. His back aching from the thin sweat stained futon he calls a bed. Light beams in from the single curtain-less window in his small flat illuminating with harsh sunrays. He stumbles to his feet into the dinky bathroom, the old wooden floorboards creaking as he moves. Nigel turns on the facet splashing water on his face to cool his flush skin. He looks into the mirror examining himself, the chiseled features of his face, the light pucker of his lips, his straight dirty blond hair. He would actually consider himself handsome if it weren’t for the state of him. His cheeks were slightly sunken in from his poor diet, hair that almost reaches his shoulders sits greasy on top of his head. The bags under his eyes are the worst, showing every restless night he has ever had in his 39 years.

 

"They’re getting worst", he says to himself thinking of his dream. Images of the murdered doctor flashing in his mind making his stomach churn. He can almost feel the burning in his lungs from the water which is a new addition to his chronic nightmares. The constant haunting by the faceless man, however, disturbs him the most. Almost every night for the past 4 months his dreams has been plagued by him. He erks to see his face, to know him, to see him. He would do anything just to ask him why he is always there.

 

Anything? He hears an echoed voice say in the back of his mind.

 

“P... please” Nigel begs his voice trembling.

 

You said anything. Would you... Kill someone to know him? The voice says filling his mind with every grotesque murder his dreamscape has ever seen. To see him. The images of countless people gutted like animals flashing in his mind like some gruesome strobe light.

"Stop!" Nigel screams at the voice. Clenching his eyes shut forcing the images out his head. His knuckles turning white from gripping the sink too tightly.

“Nigel?”

“Chiyoh!?” Nigel almost jumps out of his skin caught off guard. He turns to see the little girl standing in front of the bathroom door looking at him with wide eyes. Her long black hair swayed at her waist as she took a step back, unsure of what to do. Her big black eyes peered up at Nigel worried.

“Sorry, you scared me to death.” Nigel says with a large sigh, putting a hand over his bare chest trying to calm his racing heart. “How did you get in here?” Nigel asks slipping past her into his messy room scavenging for a clean shirt to put on. He knew how she got in considering he gave her and her grandmother a key years ago. He really didn’t mind her coming in and out. Just not so early in the morning before he could have a cup of coffee or before he could sober up from his nightly terrors. 

“Who were you talking to?” Chiyoh asks as she crosses the room into the kitchen placing a large brown sack on the small scratched kitchen table.

“No one.” Nigel says sheepishly. His face blushing a little. Ashamed that the 14 year old had walked in on him yelling at his reflection like some crazy person. He shoved his arms though the sleeves of his cream colored shirt and buttoned it up quickly. He hemmed his loose linen pants he usually wore to bed and walked over to join her at his kitchen table. “What’s in the bag” He asked trying to sound casual and hopefully change the subject.

“Oh! Grandma told me to give this too you. We got it in special this morning” Chiyoh said all excited, the subject successfully changed. She reached into the bag pulling out its content. She pulled out a thick slab covered in brown butcher paper. Unwrapping it to reveal the deep red meat and silvery white marbled fat running through the chunk of flesh. Nigel’s stomach lurched. “It’s Elk!” Chiyoh’s smiling face beaming from excitement. “Killed a whole gang early this morning and grandma got the whole elk, antlers and all. There’s a big line outside the shop now, people just waitin to buy some. But grandma told me to bring you some before all the good cuts run out.” Elk was hard to come by in the village they lived in. Elk is considered good luck and represent growth and strength it’s usually eating customarily during the New Year. They also usually didn’t come this far up in the mountains. There aren’t many that live around the area and it would take a stroke of pure luck to catch one locally. 

“Thank you Chiyoh” Nigel says wrapping the meat back up shoving it in the back of his refrigerator.

Chiyoh smiled her famous gap toothed smile. “We’re having supper tonight too, grandmas making lemon cake.” Chiyoh said knowing its Nigel’s favorite.

“How can I pass on lemon cake” Nigel says, accepting the invitation.

“Today real busy at the shop yah know, so I can’t stay long”. Chiyoh said as she rummages through Nigel’s kitchen cabinets finding a small plate. She deposits the plate in front of him with a clank. “Eat, and do something with that hair of yours before you come to dinner” Chiyoh say already out the front door and halfway down the stairs.

“Bye” Nigel said quietly, mostly to himself. He plopped down onto the unsteady wooden dining chair. He looked around his small cluttered flat. The too large bookshelves filled with literature. His desk in the corner of the room with old cup ring stains. He could hear the light buzzing of life outside. The people walking and talking, merchants arguing, children screaming with laughter. It was like a white noise in the silence of his dusty room. He sat listening, waiting for the voice to reappear, but it didn’t. He was alone.

***

 

Nigel walked the short distance from his flat to his book shop. A cramped hole in the wall type of place. Nigel couldn’t image himself having any other profession. He was always immersed in a book as a child. His parents died when he was only 7 years old he lived out the rest of his youth with his grandfather. He was strict but kind. He never really spoke much but at night he would read to Nigel.

The day moved quickly, customer after customer, one wanted a book for baking the other looking for the 2nd volume of his favorite mystery trilogy another looking for a quick romantic read. It was just him and a stoic young lad named Isaak who was technically Nigel’s employee but who didn’t see Nigel as a boss at all or even an authority figure for that matter. However the lad was responsible, he came to work every day on time so Nigel wasn’t complaining. Especially when he didn’t mention Nigel’s little quirks like his slight lack of hygiene, and his constant mumblings to himself. Before Nigel knew it the clock showed it was already 6:45 they would close in 15 minutes.

 

Nigel waved quick goodbyes to Isaak as he locked up for the night giving the door a good yank just to make sure it locked properly. We walked down the dimly lit streets still scattered with people in his wayward town. The linen pants he put on this morning flapping in the cool mountain air, the light wool sweeter he threw on clutched close.

Soon Nigel found himself standing outside an old dull house. The house was large compared to the humble homes of his town, mostly two story flats fit for a single family. The house was wedged between two other homes almost like a brown stone, so the entire house felt condensed and cozy despite its moderately large three story size.

It’s rude to show up to a dinner party empty handed. The voice speaks to him as he approaches the front gate opening it with a creek. Nigel ignores him and takes a moment to collect himself. Trying to block out the intruder in his head. He has a slight headache but he’s cold and hungry so he takes a deep breath and knocks on the chipped red door. Ignoring his sleep deprived mind begging to go home.

“Hi!” Chiyoh said brightly as she opened the door ushering Nigel inside taking his shoes faster than he can take them off.

“Hello” Nigel says with a ruffle of her tussled hair.

“Obachan! Nigel is here!” Chiyoh belts out as she scurries into a room at the end of their short hallway.

“There’s no need to yell.” Chiyoh grandmother said her accent laced between her words.

“Kikyo’ Nigel greeted kissing the older woman on the cheek. Her short black hair cut perfectly in a chin length bob. Her brown eyes still knowing and youthful despite her age.

“Nigel” she said looking at the state of him, brushing his hair out of his face.

“I’m fine.”

“When is the last time you had a proper night’s sleep.”

“Kikyo.” Nigel sighed, begging her not to start.

Chiyoh’s sudden boisterous laugh interrupting them, making them both look up towards the dining room at the end of the hall. He could also hear a deep breathy laugh of an unknown man.

“Who else is hear?” Nigel asks, looking back to Kikyo.

She looked at him for a moment almost as if she was hesitant to tell him. Her brown eyes starting at his auburn eyes as if she was searching for something in them. He guess she found what she was looking for because before she turned her back on him and shuffled back into the kitchen she said to him in a clear voice.

“A Nakama”

**Author's Note:**

> Love it, Hate it? I would really love to hear your thoughts, opinions and suggestions. Also I hope its not too confusing. I promise all the pieces of the puzzle will come together.... eventually.... hopefully. :)
> 
> Notes: Nigel's dream is referring heavily to Hannibal Season 1: Episode 10: Buffet Froid


End file.
